


Parlour Games

by halotolerant



Category: Tintin
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-13
Updated: 2011-08-13
Packaged: 2017-10-22 14:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/238853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halotolerant/pseuds/halotolerant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A social gathering at Marlinspike Hall brings feelings to light</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parlour Games

**Author's Note:**

> Written for miss_morland

Years at sea have not trained Captain Archibald Haddock to be a socialite, but owning the largest and most imposing house in the Marlinspike neighbourhood makes it a bounden duty that he throw the doors open at least twice a year to the local worthies.

A few of the local figures – the new young doctor who spent years fighting cholera in China, the retired Army colonel who lives in a hilltop bungalow and keeps an elephant gun – he is actually quite drawn to, and will invite to luncheon outside these ritual events.

But that is not enough to make Haddock like these parties.

Local mamas, he thinks, may dress up their daughters and aim them in his direction if they so choose – the girls vary from silly to intelligent, and he has admittedly had some interesting conversations and not a few amusing ones – but why on earth do any of them set their cap at Tintin?

He’s quite well-known, of course, Haddock will concede, as he stands by the drinks table helping himself to another whisky-and-water and not listening to the giggles of Miss Lacroix, who had at last view perched herself on the arm of Tintin’s chair to better lean the frills decorating her cleavage towards his nose. The new publication of one of Tintin’s collected series of articles arouses some interest in the local press – he’s the nearest thing the town has to a celebrity– and there’s been the moments that have hit the national papers such as a girl might cut out and pin on the wall, which is an activity Haddock is given to understand such creatures undertake.

And there’s the dog – some girls seem taken by a man’s fondness for animals. (The Captain is inexplicably proud of the fact that Martinet, his Siamese cat, will hide on top of something during these events and scratch anything that coos at her).

And of course Tintin isn’t unattractive. Whisky poured, Haddock takes a good swig, tops up the glass again and sits down on a sofa, crossing his legs, folding his arms and watching despite himself as one of the hired waitresses bearing a tray of salmon canapés moves out of the line of sight.

Miss Lacroix is giggling, which appears to shake her whole body back and forth till the frills ripple. Tintin is looking up at her – as he has to – continuing his story with a warm smile such as he bestows on more or less anyone – Haddock reminds himself – for the boy is too kind and too eager to please to do otherwise.

Anyone would agree that Tintin is not in the slightest unattractive when he smiles, and by the way the girl is flushing she has noticed this.

Haddock’s grip on his glass tightens, pressing the indentations of the cut of the crystal into his fingertips.

He does not expect Tintin to live here with him forever – and it is not as though he ever officially moved in, just stayed more and more often until they mutually forgot that he might leave. Of course he will want to get married, it’s what people do, and Haddock must simply hope that the girl is tolerable and kind and understands that Tintin hates evil and loves danger with a deeper passion than he may ever apply to a person. Perhaps they will bring their children here to play in the grounds, maybe ask him to stand godfather.

A different, more plainly dressed young woman comes and sits on the sofa next to Haddock, a bright, polite greeting breaking into his musings. He answers automatically, but she is genuinely keen, he finds, to learn more about seventeenth century sailing vessels – a keen yachtswoman and with her heart set on a degree in History, although she laments her parents will never let her leave home to attend one of the great Universities – and he warms up to one of his favourite subjects with increasing pleasure.

They are joined by the young doctor, who launches into an anecdote about an ill-starred trip in a Chinese junk that has them both roaring with laughter. He’s about twenty-eight, Haddock reckons, and handsome in a square-jawed sort of way; he nourishes the conversation, thinking that these two young people might get on rather well, and at least some good will have come of the whole thing.

He does not allow himself to look back at Tintin; it is none of his business what the boy does.

In such ebbs and flows the evening passes, as eventually all things must if one but holds out and endures them, and when the door closes on the last of the guests –the frilled girl and her family – she giggles as she leaves – there is a silence in the house as if the very fabric is breathing a sigh of relief.

Haddock turns to find Tintin standing next to him, staring at the closed door as if fixed in some kind of thought. He has seemed more restless than usual recently and Haddock has begun to await the pronouncement of some new, necessary and perilous escapade, but now he wonders if it is the call of Spring air, and only the same restlessness that strikes all young men in time.

“Well we’ve survived another one,” he observes, trying to smile.

He feels low and drained, and in this state the old battle against entirely immolating himself in a bottle becomes keenly felt.

Tintin looks at him sharply. “You seemed quite entertained whenever I saw you.”

Haddock feels more cross than he can really account for. “Confound it, I’m surprised you were looking around at all, you seemed monopolised for the evening and you know you’re the only one of all them that I ever really want to talk to.”

He had not intended even to think the latter part of this, but there it is, aloud.

There is a moment of silence between them. Haddock observes a spot of colour in Tintin’s cheeks, and the boy makes a noise that sounds more like frustration than offence.

“You like talking to Dr Greenham.”

“I do like talking to Dr Greenham,” Haddock confirms. “Not least because I have some certainty he is not laying groundwork to receive a marriage proposal.”

“Well not marriage, certainly.” Tintin isn’t smiling now. He starts to walk away, toward the stairs and by the time he is half way up Haddock has caught up with him, grabbing his arm.

“Now listen a damn minute,” Haddock is breathing too hard for just the sprint upstairs to account for, he is one step below Tintin and the boy’s eyes in all their intensity seem very close. “I don’t know why you’re upset, but if you’re pining after that Lacroix girl already don’t take it out on me.” He moves back and down a little, dropping his hand, exhausted and pathetic. “I cannot bear you to be unhappy.”

Tintin has frozen still, mouth open in what looks like surprise. He is the most stoic person in the world, Haddock has learned, and will smile to anyone forever if he feels he ought to, but under that run emotions turbulent as the Atlantic in December, and Haddock knows that though he is the only one who really sees them, he still can’t fathom half their depths.

“Maybe I’m afraid, Captain,” he says at last. “Maybe I’m afraid that were I to... offer myself, I would not be agreeable.”

Offer myself – the words make Haddock’s skin do all manner of peculiar electric things.

“Any woman would be lucky to have you,” he says, and finds his mouth is dry though his eyes are dangerously moist. “Any would accept you in a heartbeat, but please, Tintin, find someone worthy of you, not those girls who just have beautiful bodies. You have a beautiful body and beautiful mind and a beautiful soul and you should...” his voice dries up entirely and he turns, raising a hand to his eyes, flushing and humiliated. “Go to bed, I’m being an old fool – what right have I to talk about anyone’s soul?”

“Someone worthy of me,” Tintin echoes. “What about someone I love?”

This is cruel, and Tintin has never been cruel before – Haddock keeps walking, eyes already fixed on the whisky bottle.

“Captain!” Tintin cries out, half agonised and Haddock turns at once, instinctively, desperately; Tintin is running down the stairs and possibly Haddock steps forward, he isn’t sure, either way they meet in the middle of the hall that still smells of perfume and cigarettes and when they collide somehow Tintin has his arms around him and he says “Captain,” again with a sigh, like a prayer, eyes wide as they look up – he’s trembling, Haddock realises – and kisses him.

A lot of things are murmured between them in the next few minutes, breathless and kiss-addled and disjointed as such moments are, but what Haddock what will always distinctly remember, what Tintin keeps saying most fervently of all is “You, yes, you, you, of course it’s you – there’s never been anyone else.”

\- - -


End file.
